Mr. White

“ Mr. White left the room, breathing heavily.
"Excuse me one moment," said the doctor in a low voice. "I have a few words to say to White."
"Please don't make a fuss," said Oliva, "I would rather the matter dropped where it is."
He nodded, and strode out after the managing director of Punsonby's. They made a little group of four.
"Can I see you in my flat for a moment, Mr. White?"
"Certainly," said Mr. White cheerfully.
"You don't want us any more?" asked the detective.
"No," said Mr. White; then: "Are you quite sure you searched the bottom drawer of the bureau?" ”

“ The simile of the protective device of the chameleon came to his mind. Yes, the Negro in the South had many things in common with the chameleon—he had to be able to change his colour figuratively to suit the environment of the South in order to be allowed to stay alive. His own trouble with the Parkers and Lane seemed much more trivial now than before. He looked at Mr. Wilson and asked:
“What’s the purpose of this meeting to-night? How can I help, Reverend Wilson?”
“It’s like this. A good part of my congregation is made up of folks who live out in the country. ”

“ He lurched forward, caught the lapels of the other's immaculate frock-coat and held himself erect thereby.
"My dear old Whitey," he said.
"I don't know you, sir," cried Mr. White, "will you please unhand me?"
"Don't know me, Whitey? Why you astonishing old thing!"
He slipped his arm over the other's shoulder in an attitude of affectionate regard. "Don't know old Beale?" ”

“ Two or three days after I had been waited on by the Triteriteites, the same honour was done me by the Whiteites, and with similar views. To the gentlemen of this party, I said precisely what I had said to those of the opposite faction, and begged of them, in heaven’s name, to let me alone, and settle the matter amongst them as they best could.
“Well,” replied one of the gentlemen, when I had done, “I must say, I did not expect this of you, Mr. B. I thought I could have reckoned on your support; but it doesn’t signify. We can secure Mr. White’s appointment without you. ”

“ At the sound of Kenneth’s voice, County Commissioner of Health Henry Lane turned in his chair without moving his feet to see who it was that had entered. Long, lanky, a two days’ growth of red beard on his face, Mr. Lane removed the corn-cob pipe from his mouth with a rising and falling of a prominent Adam’s apple. Seeing that his visitor was only a Negro, he replaced his pipe in his mouth and, between several jerky puffs to get it going again, querulously replied:
“Can’t you see I’m busy? Why don’t you save up them repo’ts till you git a passel of them, and then bring ‘em in? ”

“ Next morning old Pat waited on Mr. White, and thanked him most warmly for his exertions to reclaim the young reprobate by his advice and expostulations. "If anything could have produced a good effect on him," exclaimed the agonized father, "it would [Pg 53] have been your advice, your example, and the contemplation of the sweet scene and happy family to which your invitation last week——"
"My dear sir," interrupted Mr. White, "there is a great delusion on your mind. I have not seen your son, nor have I had any communication whatever with him for more than twelve months." ”

“ John Anthony was the first to speak, and then he approached the whole race problem instead of Kenneth’s plan for attacking one phase of it.
“Doctor,” asked Mr. Anthony, “do you believe there is any solution to the race problem? Just what is the immediate way out, as you see it?”
“It would take a wiser man than I to answer that,” laughed Kenneth. “You see, we’re in the habit of thinking that we can find a simple A-B-C solution for any given problem, and the trouble is there are mighty few that are simple enough for that.” ”

“ Of all races that make up the heterogenous populace of America, none is more self-critical than the Negro—its often unjust and carping criticism of those who stand out from the mass serves as an excellent antidote for undue pride and conceit. ...
The next evening the seven men met again at Mr. [173] Wilson’s. Kenneth stopped by for Mr. Phillips, but he did not see Jane. The Reverend Stewart, Tucker, Tracy, Swann, and Mr. Wilson sat awaiting them. Tom Tracy was exhibiting, somewhat proudly it seemed, a note he had found tacked to his door that morning. ”

“ In the dark down in the mines I saw the Holy Ghost rise into the lives of a score of men. And now I see the Holy Ghost coming into a great class. And I must go–go with neither purse nor script to meet it, to live for it, and maybe to die for it.” He shook his head and cried vehemently:
“What a saphead I’d be if I fell to that bait!” He turned to the store and called to Miss Calvin. “Ave–is there a telegraph blank in the desk?”
Mr. Brotherton threw it, skidding, across the long counter. Grant fumbled in his vest for a pen, held the sheet firmly with his claw and wrote:
“You are kindness itself. ”

“ Let’s get the better class of coloured people together like Reverend Wilson, Mr. Graham, Mr. Adams, and some others, and form a Coloured Protective League here in Central City. We can then take up these cases and see if something can’t be done to remedy them.”
Bob leaned forward in his eagerness to impress Kenneth with his idea.
“You see, if any one or two of us takes up a case we are marked men. But if there are two or three hundred of us they can’t take it out on all of us.” ”

“ He was ignorant and coarse, but he had lived in South Georgia all his life and he would know better what to do than anybody else. He determined to go and talk with Mr. Wilson that evening as soon as he was free. He had hardly made the decision when Mr. Wilson [105] non himself entered the reception room and called out to Kenneth as he sat in his office:
“Good mawnin’, Brudder Harper. It certainly has done my heart good to see you attendin’ chu’ch ev’ry Sunday with your folks. Mos’ of these young men and women, as soon’s they get some learning, thinks they’s too good to ‘tend chu’ch. ”

“ White's verses are comical, however, we must acknowledge; and so are all the foot-notes in the book. If the Model of Deportment had taken to letters with a humorous aim, we could conceive of his writing them. "If burlesque," says Mr. White of his "Union" verses, "were all their purpose, they would not be here preserved"; adding, with a noble tenderness for his victim, "Mr. Emerson could well afford to forgive them, even if they did not come from one of his warmest admirers,"—in which we agree with Mr. ”

“ His shrill little voice was the first thing Mr. 128 Horton heard, for the train had beaten them to the station after all, and as the carriage turned the corner of the street a familiar figure stood on the platform waving to them. Grandpa had to keep one hand on his grandson to prevent him from falling out over the wheels.
“Well, well, Son, isn’t this fine!” Daddy had him in his arms almost before the horses stopped. “How brown you are! and yes, you’ve grown, too. I’ll put the suitcase in—don’t try to lift it.”
Daddy put Sunny Boy down and turned and kissed Grandpa. ”

“ Horton coming around the corner.
Sunny Boy ran to meet him.
“Did you walk?” he asked disappointedly. “Where’s the automobile? Did you scold the laundry-wagon boy?”
“I put the automobile to bed,” answered Daddy, waving to Mother. “This fall, perhaps, we can build a garage out back of the house. I’ll see. But just now a man named Mr. Taggart has to keep the car at night for us. Did you help Mother?”
“Indeed he did!” Mrs. Horton held open the screen door for them to go in. “I haven’t missed Harriet at all.” ”

“ James W. White's name before her marriage was Rhoda Elizabeth Waterman, and when quite young she married James W. White a young lawyer of Irish descent and a nephew of General Griffin, author of "The Collegians." Mr. and Mrs. White took up their residence in the city of New York in 1834, and this home was known among her friends as "Castle Comfort." Mrs. White considered it her most sacred duty to God and her husband to deepen, purify and increase in her own heart and in his. ”

“ The woolly black head and grinning brown face disappeared, but Sunny Boy set up a loud wail.
"Daddy, he took my hat! See him! He's got it! Let me get out and chase him!"
"Stay where you are," commanded Mr. Horton. "You can't catch him now. Perhaps we can find him later. If not, Mother will have to get you another hat to-morrow."
"It was brand-new," Sunny Boy explained mournfully to David, as the car started. "Mother bought it for me to wear to New York. And now that colored boy went and stole it!"
[23]
CHAPTER II OLIVER'S LESSON
ou going to New York?" ”

“ Horton, turning the car into the pretty white driveway bordered on either side with dazzling white clam shells.
[Pg 83]
“I could eat,” ventured Sunny Boy cautiously.
“My sentiments exactly,” agreed his father.
“But we’ll have an early supper,” protested Mrs. Horton. “I’d rather you waited, Sunny Boy. The time won’t seem long.”
“Well, but, Mother, couldn’t I have an ice-cream cone?” asked Sunny Boy. “Time is quicker when you have a cone.”
“Yes, Mother,” teased Mr. Horton. “Time is ever so much quicker when we have a cone. Please, Mother?” ”

“ Orde," he unbent slightly. "I've been expecting you. If you're as good a man as your father, you'll succeed. If you're not as good a man as your father, you may get on—well enough. But you've got to be some good on your own account. We'll see." He raised his voice slightly. "Jim!" he called.
One of the two bookkeepers appeared in the doorway.
"This is young Mr. Orde," Fox told him. "You knew his father at Monrovia and Redding."
The bookkeeper examined Bob dispassionately.
"Harvey is our head man here," went on Fox. "He'll take charge of you." ”

“ I wouldn't advise Whitey to try to scalp one of those fellows!"
"Of course not!" said Whitey. "They're educated and civilized—just like other folks. The kind you kill—in all the books—are the ones that get drunk on fire-water and put paint and feathers on 'emselves and go 'round murdering the white settlers and burning folks at the stake. The Carlisle boys don't do any of those things!"
"Well," said Bobby, dubiously, reluctant to give up cherished traditions, "I dunno. You can't tell—they might!"
Mr. Sherwood ended the discussion by saying that they better get home and finish packing ”

“ Folks don't drop out of sight in New York."
"But where are you staying?" said Mrs. Horton. "What do you do? Can't I or [104] Mr. Horton help you, Joe? A boy alone in a great city like this might need a friend, you know."
Joe Brown scuffled his feet uneasily.
"I'm all right," he insisted.
"Well, at least come and have some lunch with Sunny and me," invited Mrs. Horton. "Perhaps you can tell us some place to go? And then come up to the hotel with us this afternoon and we'll see if Mr. Horton can't find out something about your aunt."
Joe knew of a place where lunch could be had, and he and Mrs. ”

“ His voice excelled both in melody and compass, and its fine modulations were happily accompanied by the grace of action which he possessed in an eminent degree, and which is said to be the chief requisite of an orator. An ignorant man described his eloquence oddly, but strikingly, when he said that Mr. Whitefield preached like a lion. So strange a comparison conveyed no unapt idea of the force, and vehemence, and passion—of the authority which awed the hearers, and made them tremble like Felix before the apostle. ”

“ And it was to this table they drifted eventually, and sat down and were calling for drinks, which were brought to them, and paid for by the big man with the clean-shaven, hatchet face and the keen black eyes. The big man had come in with a smaller man by his side—a smaller man who walked close by him, so that their coat-sleeves seemed to touch—and a close observer might have observed that there was reason for this, inasmuch as a link of steel bound one left wrist to the right of the other. ”

“ Lee Street was bathed alternately in moonlight and shadow as a vagrant moon wove its way in front of and behind small patches of clouds. The clattering car approached—came abreast the doorway—and passed rapidly by
“It’s that damn nigger himself!” he exclaimed to the men behind him. “What’n th’hell’s he doin’ out this time of night ‘round here? An’ headed towards Georgy Avenue, too! It’s damn funny!”
There was an outburst of excited whispering. Various speculative surmises were offered. None was able to offer a sensible reason for Kenneth’s nocturnal pilgrimage. ”

“ Marty and Thomas, for instance, had they had the kind of breakfast he had just had?
"And we're going shopping," Mother reminded him, as she led the way out of the dining room. Perhaps she guessed what he was thinking. "You see, Daddy did all this for you and for me, but we want to give the Harritys something, don't we?"
"Oh, yes!" Sunny Boy was all smiles. "Let's, Mother! But what shall we buy?"
"I thought I'd send something nice to Mrs. Harrity and Theresa, and you would choose something for each of the children," explained Mrs. Horton. "We'll go right out now and see what we can find." ”

“ It compasseth the heavens about with glory; and the hands of the Most High have bended it!"
On another occasion, as Mr. Whitefield was preaching in Boston, on the wonders of creation, [469] providence, and redemption, a violent storm of thunder and lightning came on. In the midst of the sermon it attained to so alarming a height that the congregation sat in almost breathless awe. The preacher closed his note-book, and stepping into one of the wings of the desk, fell on his knees, and with much feeling and fine taste repeated:
"Hark, the Eternal rends the sky! ”